


Unexpected Course

by methylviolet10b



Series: Dinner Plans [3]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Prompt Fic, Watson's Woes July Writing Prompts 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 20:01:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11516418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: All Watson wanted was a quiet evening at home. Written for JWP #15.





	Unexpected Course

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Oh boy, did this go off in a strange direction. More of an amuse-bouche than anything. Definitely related to two JWPs from last year, [Dinner Plans](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7536892) and [Indigestion](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7589005), but I'm not sure reading those will clarify much. And absolutely no beta. Written in a huge rush. 
> 
> Author's Notes: Written for JWP #15: **Blood on the Snow**. Many fairy tales have their roots in horror stories. Others are bright and shiny and sparkly by design. Use a fairy tale or horror story as the inspiration for today's entry. The last time we had this prompt, I wound up going in [a totally different direction](https://methylviolet10b.dreamwidth.org/160263.html), too. A very dangerous prompt!

“Ah, there you are, Doctor Watson!”   
  
Startled, I looked around for the speaker. It had been a long day, and I had just turned the corner onto Baker Street. I was looking forward to nothing more than a quiet evening in my armchair. I was certainly not expecting anyone to be looking for me, other than perhaps Holmes.  
  
A handsome, very well-dressed man stood by an impeccable coach at the kerb just beside 221. Holmes stood near the open vehicle door, but it was the richly-dressed stranger who sprang forward, beaming at me. “Mr Holmes was just lamenting your absence as most unfortunate. How wonderful that you’ve returned just in time to help me with my little matter! I’d be honoured if you’d accompany us.”  
  
His smile was dazzling, so much so that I couldn’t help returning it. My tiredness dropped away. The interior of the coach – what I could see of it – looked very inviting. Still, I am a practical man. “I will need to retrieve a few things from my room first, but it shouldn’t take more than five minutes…”  
  
“Oh, no need!” the stranger laughed. “I’m sure you’re just fine as you are, and the horses are baited and ready to be off. I have food and drink for the journey. Come, get inside!”  
  
I wanted to. I wanted it very badly. I could hardly think of anything else. But there was one detail that stopped my impulse to step forward before I could lift a single toe from the ground.  
  
Holmes had not said anything. In fact, he wasn’t even looking at me. His brows were drawn down, and his head was sunk towards his chest, as if he was caught deeply in thought. I had seen him in just such an attitude more times than I could recall, but never while standing on a public thoroughfare.  
  
The stranger smiled, brighter and even more beguiling than before. “The coach awaits!”  
  
I kept smiling back at him even as I reached inside my coat pocket. It was difficult to do, and even harder to resist walking straight into the coach even as I fumbled the object I wanted into my grip. But I managed to veer my steps just enough so I wound up at Holmes’ side. Before the stranger could say anything more, I seized Holmes’ arm with one hand. With the other, I drove the small dagger I’d withdrawn from my pocket into the frame of the open carriage door.  
  
The dagger was not simply steel, but cold-forged iron; a sgian-dubh, one of the few items passed down to me from my family. My elder brother had thought it a worthless trinket, but I’d somehow intuited its worth long before I met Holmes.  
  
I heard an unearthly shriek, and Holmes staggered as if shaking off a great blow. The coach vanished, leaving no trace. I hastily turned to point the tip of the little knife at the stranger, who still stood on the walk.  
  
He was richly dressed and handsome still, but in the way deadly serpents can be: beautifully-coloured scales and terrible grace. I inwardly recoiled from his presence just as much as I had been charmed by him before.  
  
“You have no power here,” Holmes snarled, his voice barely audible and ice-cold. “This is not your place. You are not invited, and we have not accepted your invitation. Begone, and tell your master should he ever send another of his creatures here, I shall dine well.”  
  
Hate-filled eyes widened with undeniable fear, and then the man – or whatever he truly was – whirled and hastened away. He vanished from my sight within a half-dozen steps, despite the relative lack of passers-by or any cover.  
  
Holmes sighed and leaned more heavily on my arm. “Thank you, Watson. Your return proved most fortunate.”  
  
I hastily returned my knife to its hidden sheath before anyone else could notice it. “Holmes, what was that?”  
  
“A very dangerous development, my dear fellow, and one best discussed indoors.”  
  
“Then let us go inside at once.” I had not failed to notice that Holmes still leaned on me. I had never known him to show more than a momentary weakness. Usually it was his inhuman strength lending me support, rather than reverse.  
  
I would not fail him now that our positions were changed. I did my best to make it look as if Holmes was helping me as we made our way up to our sitting-room as quickly as I could manage it.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted July 15, 2017.


End file.
